Charlie and Finn at the Vet

Charlie held the leash. Finn held the ground.

"Come on, Finn," said Charlie. "Time to go."

Finn sat down. Finn lay down. Finn rolled over and became a very flat, very heavy rug.

"Finn," said Charlie. "You are not a rug."

Finn disagreed.

Charlie's mom opened the car door. Charlie tugged the leash. Finn slid across the kitchen floor on his belly, his legs spread out like a starfish, his nails going tick-tick-tick-tick on the tile.

"You're being silly," said Charlie.

Finn was not being silly. Finn was being serious. This was his most serious face. It just happened to look exactly like his silly face.

They picked him up — Charlie got the front, Mom got the back — and they carried him to the car like a furry, wiggly suitcase.

In the car, Finn sat on Charlie's lap. He was shaking. Not big shakes. Little ones. Like a phone buzzing in a pocket.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

Charlie wrapped both arms around him. "It's okay, Finn. I'm right here."

Finn licked Charlie's chin. Then his ear. Then shoved his whole wet nose into Charlie's neck, which was cold and horrible and also wonderful.

Charlie held him tighter. "I'll be with you the whole time. I promise."

Finn's tail gave one small wag. Just one. Like a little question.

The waiting room smelled like other animals and floor cleaner. A cat in a carrier stared at Finn. Finn stared at the cat. The cat yawned. Finn looked away first.

There was a basket of treats on the counter. Charlie took one and held it out. Finn sniffed it. He looked at Charlie. He looked at the treat. He looked at the door that said DR. PENNY.

He ate the treat. But he didn't enjoy it. He wanted everyone to know that.

Dr. Penny had a bright yellow stethoscope. She let Charlie listen to his own heart first.

Thub-thub. Thub-thub. Thub-thub.

"Now Finn's turn," said Dr. Penny.

Finn's heart went faster.

Thub-thub-thub-thub-thub-thub.

"That's just because he's nervous," said Dr. Penny. "Perfectly normal."

Charlie put his hand on Finn's head. Right between the ears, in the warm, soft spot. Finn closed his eyes.

Dr. Penny checked his teeth. She checked his ears. She pressed his tummy gently, and Finn's back leg kicked three times fast — thump thump thump — which made everybody laugh, even Finn, whose tongue flopped out sideways.

Then came the shot.

Finn didn't see it. Charlie did. He kept his hand on that warm spot between the ears. He kept it steady and still.

Finn flinched. Just once. A tiny one.

"All done," said Dr. Penny.

She held out two treats. One for Finn. One for Charlie.

Finn ate his in one gulp.

Charlie ate his too. It tasted like peanut butter and dust.

"That was a dog treat," said Mom.

Charlie shrugged. Finn licked Charlie's hand. They were even now.

Outside, the sun was warm. Finn walked ahead, pulling the leash, his tail swinging side to side like a big happy windshield wiper.

He was not flat. He was not a rug. He was not a buzzing phone in anyone's pocket.

He stopped at a puddle, sniffed it, and stepped right in with all four paws. Then he looked back at Charlie with his mouth open and his tongue out, like he'd just found the greatest puddle in the whole wide world.

Charlie stepped in too.

The water was cold and brown and perfect.

They walked home, leaving wet footprints — two big, two little — all the way down the sidewalk, slowly drying in the sun.